Scar/ed

The bulging skin
from temple to grin
gasps as I start anew.

but nothing is as rythmic as that;
not when i need a pickaxe to reach my heart.

I sledge through the air to get my heart's axe point out.

I am calloused still.


(An out of practice dribble. I'll get better once I finagle the handlebars some more.)

ears

whisper, titter titter
like a jittering of bugs
that waltz
in and out and in
to the shouts of
sin and clouds and sin.
never before, but before now and always,
has "ever" been so distant.
restraint and faint off-shoots of vibes
that rumble with shrapnel of a vibrant display of lines.
"we are not alone" we tell ourselves
tic tac toeing the way through our mind
to corner the thought and strike through
a series of x's and o's.
so this sound that we hear, never "ever" reaches the ear
but we all know the words not spoken
because they sit at the edge of a lip.
whispering, titter titter
like a jittering of bugs...

(An older poem, when I was still writing.)

blank

the screen blurs into hesitant pulses
of heartbeats slowing to a stop,
drawing a long breath
and gasping for air.

i see blank colors,
a stainglass hiccup
that chokes in the throat
and cascades into shattered sentences.

anchored

stutter slide in salt water;
the points of me don't grab.
I smash against the bottom
and peel the world open.

scarring,
a sensation
a vibration up the spine
and chain.

Stuttering in anger,
but I'm anchored.

soft spot of the sun

crowning through the horizon,
eye scratching blood,
and the limbs of a newborn day.

these are the births
these are the miracles,
and i,
i wanna take a sledge to the soft spot of the sun.

I combined all of your threads into one, since you don't really need a topic per each individual poem, as noted in the poetry subforum's rules. ^^ Please reuse this thread for the rest of your poetry. (If you need me to delete this post, just let me know.)

(sorry for the multi threads)

leaves

skin-tone shades of autumn,
flowing bark that smooths
to the distance,
she walked in the bending wind.

the colors of her pressence
danced around her
time's sweet stillness
that caught her.

the wind pulls her away,
bending to the fall
she;
just leaves

vomit

it was a belt sander.
it choked on the saw dust in my lungs
and regurgitated into awakening.

i felt the electric current slime down my throat and spew into the rise.

it was a shopvac.
it flared behind the bridge of my nose
until i felt my head dry out.

i felt the air suck in the most horrid stench of burnt wood and the motor stalled.

it was release.
it was a shower of safety rain that spilled
out of my body; aid.

and i couldn't look anywhere else but at the conjuration of a carpenter.

air swept hand,
a horizontal fury
that viper snatches
at a puncture wound.

the stinger rips clear,
the yellow infection leaks
from the tail-end abdomen
into my clean blood stream.

fire rages below the skin,
an eternity in the rotation
of a clock's pale face
that ends in sweat and roman numerals.

and i wake, transformed,
into a new age entomologist
who knows why the stinger breaks,
why the bug dies,
why i vomit constantly
in the death of my friend,
the bug i killed when i allowed him to kill me.